weekend in review
I finished tweaking Chapter Six, Seven, and completely had to rewrite 8. Oh, it was all there...mostly. But.
When I write naturally, it's like I'm in one of these:
Only instead of money flying around it's scraps of dialogue, a texture, a smell, an idea. I snag all I can and write it down, but if I try to get it in any kind of sensible order, some pieces are inevitably lost, and if I don't try to get it in any kind of sensible order, well, I end up with Chapter Eight.
There are people who think I don't do rough drafts.
Those people couldn't be wronger.
Hopefully I don't have too many more chapters like that, 'cause argh.
So I did that over the weekend, and shoveled up Cobie poop and harvested dog toys from the yard so T-moth could mow. Took out the 'mater plants that never did any good anyhow. All of this year's tomatoes were deformed and/or had rotten places.
I went to EvilMart to fill an RX. Other purchases I may feel guilty about making there, but I never feel guilty about getting prescriptions filled there because if anyone deserves to be throat-grabbed, shaken, and mauled in the corporate jaws of the Evil Empire's buying policies, it's the pharmaceutical companies. They were really busy. I stood in line to drop off the paper, and when I got to the counter the woman there said, "Will you be waiting?"
I said, "You look pretty busy. I can just come back Monday."
She said, "Oh it'll be ready in a half hour."
"For real?" I asked, because I used to work in pizza and that whole thirty minutes or less thing makes me suspicious.
"Absolutely," she said.
"In that case, I'll wait," I said. And I did. I waited a half hour, and then stood in line fifteen more minutes, and when I finally got to the counter they said it wasn't ready. Of course.
Evil is as Evil does I guess.
"It'll be ready in a few more minutes," the other lady said.
"I'll be back in a few more minutes," I said, and went home.
I might lie for a living some day, so I need all the practice I can get, right?
When I got home I sat on the back deck some more, because it really was a glorious weekend weather-wise, and it makes the dogs happy when I sit out there and supervise. So I watched dogs and I watched the catty-corner neighbor's kids. I actually think that's a daycare, or a commune, or something. Cobie and Kelly both long to get over there and play with kids. I don't honestly like some of those kids. They have foul mouths and they're mean--three of them, anyhow. They're loud and trashy enough to cast a pall over the whole deck-sitting experience many days.
Which is why it surprised me when I thought I saw the one boy throw something over two fences and into the (my) east side neighbors yard. They're the county law people over there, as opposed to the city detective on the west side. It's a treat, I thought. Some kind of food for the dogs.
Next thought was, I wouldn't like that if it was my dog, I thought. Because who knows what those kids consider a treat. The girl threw some too. They kept going around to the front of the house to get more whatever it was.
I should really tell someone, I thought. But should it be the kid's grups, or the dogs'? I could hear the kids's grup talking around the side of the house, so she knew, but still...
And that's when the kid threw another whatever and then threw up his hands touchdown style. "I hit it! Take that, you nasty dogs!"
Well that's when I lost my mind, shot to my feet and started bellowing across two yards.
"Don't you throw shit at those dogs!" (See, my own trailer parkiness was showing.)
"I wasn't!"
"I saw you!"
"I didn't hit it!"
"You just said you did and I WANT YOU TO STOPPIT RIGHT NOW!"
He went and hid behind their shed. I sat down, fuming.
No one came to see what all the hubbub was about, even though the girl ran and told her grup and I distinctly heard the woman say, "He'd better not be throwing stuff."
Or what?
Yeah, I'm still mad. If I see it again I'm totally going all snitchfest and I don't care who I piss off.
After all, why should I be pissed alone?
Also this weekend I shampooed the living room carpet. I couldn't be sure whether I had some new pet stains going on, or whether old ones were responding to the moon's gravitational pull. No matter though, because even good nogs have an accident every once in a while, and now they're gone anyhow, at least for now.
Oh, and I played Harvest Moon Grand Bazaar. Last weekend Zor went to Game Stop and I asked her to check and see if they had Harvest Moon Sunshine Island and get a price on it for me, because I recently finally tried to play Island of Happiness and the controls were just gawd offal.
They didn't have Sunshine Island, but she brought me home Grand Bazaar. I gotta say, I'm liking it. It's hard to get used to only getting money once a week (which is still twice as often as real life). You make more money if you sell your items at market than if you sell them in the stores, and market selling is basically a mini-game, but did I mention I like it?
I'm burning out on FaceBook games. Seriously. I didn't get online all weekend, and it was great.
But last night Oliver and Cobie tag teamed me to keep me awake until 1:30, so I need to go sit on the sofa like a sofa-sitting zombie for a while and wait for it to be time to go scoop me some Zor.
'Til next time.
When I write naturally, it's like I'm in one of these:
Only instead of money flying around it's scraps of dialogue, a texture, a smell, an idea. I snag all I can and write it down, but if I try to get it in any kind of sensible order, some pieces are inevitably lost, and if I don't try to get it in any kind of sensible order, well, I end up with Chapter Eight.
There are people who think I don't do rough drafts.
Those people couldn't be wronger.
Hopefully I don't have too many more chapters like that, 'cause argh.
So I did that over the weekend, and shoveled up Cobie poop and harvested dog toys from the yard so T-moth could mow. Took out the 'mater plants that never did any good anyhow. All of this year's tomatoes were deformed and/or had rotten places.
I went to EvilMart to fill an RX. Other purchases I may feel guilty about making there, but I never feel guilty about getting prescriptions filled there because if anyone deserves to be throat-grabbed, shaken, and mauled in the corporate jaws of the Evil Empire's buying policies, it's the pharmaceutical companies. They were really busy. I stood in line to drop off the paper, and when I got to the counter the woman there said, "Will you be waiting?"
I said, "You look pretty busy. I can just come back Monday."
She said, "Oh it'll be ready in a half hour."
"For real?" I asked, because I used to work in pizza and that whole thirty minutes or less thing makes me suspicious.
"Absolutely," she said.
"In that case, I'll wait," I said. And I did. I waited a half hour, and then stood in line fifteen more minutes, and when I finally got to the counter they said it wasn't ready. Of course.
Evil is as Evil does I guess.
"It'll be ready in a few more minutes," the other lady said.
"I'll be back in a few more minutes," I said, and went home.
I might lie for a living some day, so I need all the practice I can get, right?
When I got home I sat on the back deck some more, because it really was a glorious weekend weather-wise, and it makes the dogs happy when I sit out there and supervise. So I watched dogs and I watched the catty-corner neighbor's kids. I actually think that's a daycare, or a commune, or something. Cobie and Kelly both long to get over there and play with kids. I don't honestly like some of those kids. They have foul mouths and they're mean--three of them, anyhow. They're loud and trashy enough to cast a pall over the whole deck-sitting experience many days.
Which is why it surprised me when I thought I saw the one boy throw something over two fences and into the (my) east side neighbors yard. They're the county law people over there, as opposed to the city detective on the west side. It's a treat, I thought. Some kind of food for the dogs.
Next thought was, I wouldn't like that if it was my dog, I thought. Because who knows what those kids consider a treat. The girl threw some too. They kept going around to the front of the house to get more whatever it was.
I should really tell someone, I thought. But should it be the kid's grups, or the dogs'? I could hear the kids's grup talking around the side of the house, so she knew, but still...
And that's when the kid threw another whatever and then threw up his hands touchdown style. "I hit it! Take that, you nasty dogs!"
Well that's when I lost my mind, shot to my feet and started bellowing across two yards.
"Don't you throw shit at those dogs!" (See, my own trailer parkiness was showing.)
"I wasn't!"
"I saw you!"
"I didn't hit it!"
"You just said you did and I WANT YOU TO STOPPIT RIGHT NOW!"
He went and hid behind their shed. I sat down, fuming.
No one came to see what all the hubbub was about, even though the girl ran and told her grup and I distinctly heard the woman say, "He'd better not be throwing stuff."
Or what?
Yeah, I'm still mad. If I see it again I'm totally going all snitchfest and I don't care who I piss off.
After all, why should I be pissed alone?
Also this weekend I shampooed the living room carpet. I couldn't be sure whether I had some new pet stains going on, or whether old ones were responding to the moon's gravitational pull. No matter though, because even good nogs have an accident every once in a while, and now they're gone anyhow, at least for now.
Oh, and I played Harvest Moon Grand Bazaar. Last weekend Zor went to Game Stop and I asked her to check and see if they had Harvest Moon Sunshine Island and get a price on it for me, because I recently finally tried to play Island of Happiness and the controls were just gawd offal.
They didn't have Sunshine Island, but she brought me home Grand Bazaar. I gotta say, I'm liking it. It's hard to get used to only getting money once a week (which is still twice as often as real life). You make more money if you sell your items at market than if you sell them in the stores, and market selling is basically a mini-game, but did I mention I like it?
I'm burning out on FaceBook games. Seriously. I didn't get online all weekend, and it was great.
But last night Oliver and Cobie tag teamed me to keep me awake until 1:30, so I need to go sit on the sofa like a sofa-sitting zombie for a while and wait for it to be time to go scoop me some Zor.
'Til next time.